


The Pain of Honor

by DevonShea



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e12-13 The Coming of Arthur, Gen, POV Leon (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26779837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevonShea/pseuds/DevonShea
Summary: Leon has some decisions to make when he's saved by Druids after being nearly killed by Cenred's men.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31
Collections: Merlin Canon 2020





	The Pain of Honor

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to the mods for organizing this fest. You guys rock!
> 
> Merlin belongs to Shine and the BBC.

All he could feel was pain. Pain where the sword had cut into his flesh. Pain on the side of his head where the pommel of that sword had crashed into his temple to knock him down so Cenred's man could kick him as he laughed. Pain as the dim shapes of the men who carried him from the scene of the battle jostled him.

Leon's eyes fluttered as he felt himself laid upon something harder than the ground where he'd been bleeding out. Torchlight flickered against his eyelids as he listened to what sounded like low chanting. The tone grated and warred with the headache already threatening to split his skull in two.

A hand reached below his head and lifted it. Something cool and metallic touched his lips, sending a shock through his skin. It felt like the time he and Elyan had braved a thunderstorm as children.

They had stood out on the curtain wall of his uncle's castle and watched as it blew in from the west. The clouds lit up from inside while the two boys watched silently, fascinated by the light show. One of the guards had come up behind them, clapping his hand on Leon's shoulder, "It's time to go in now, boys. This looks like it's going to be a rough one."

Before they could do more than nod, a bolt of lightning had sizzled above them, racing in a jagged line. The air filled with ozone and it was only the guard's hand on Leon's shoulder that prevented him from jumping out of his skin. His curls lifted and the tiny hairs on his body stood on end.

Leon remembered the tangy taste of metal in the air as he and Elyan ran for the door to the tower and safety. It was the same taste on his lips and tongue right now. Water, pure and clean, dribbled past his open lips and landed on his tongue. He could feel warmth spreading throughout his body. The pain was chased away by the warmth and the electricity that followed the gulp of water he'd taken.

When Leon opened his eyes, he looked straight into those of a blond man he'd never seen before. He wore the garb of a druid, but instead of fear in his eyes, Leon saw only compassion.

Leon only stayed with the druids for a day. Iseldir, the leader of this particular camp, asked him to stay longer and heal more before he left them, but Leon knew his duty. He had to get home to Camelot.

By now, Cenred's men had reported the deaths of the patrol. Forty men. Forty of Leon's companions were dead, and it was only by a forbidden miracle that Leon hadn't joined them. He had to get home to report.

"Is it really so urgent to get back there, Sir Leon?" One of the druids had decided to accompany him on his way. Marcus was a short, squarish man, who looked like he'd been in more than one tavern brawl in his life. His nose was crooked and just a bit squashed, as if it had been broken more than once. "You're really not well enough to push this hard."

Leon smiled up at his companion. He was tired. Actually, he was just plain exhausted. The light from the tiny campfire the two men allowed themselves was just enough for him to see the other man. "I have to report in. Besides, I can't let my family think I'm dead when I'm still alive. My mother will be devastated."

Marcus sighed. "I guess you're right. I just wish you'd stayed another day. You were nearly dead when we found you. You really need more rest."

"When I get home, our court physician will probably insist I not get out of bed. If not him, then my mother. Trust me, I will be thoroughly coddled until I can make my escape from their good intentions."

A snort came from the other side of the fire. "My wife was like that. One of the boys would catch a sniffle and she'd be right on them with soup and blankets. Do you have a wife, Sir Leon?"

"No. Not yet. I haven't found a woman whom I care enough for yet." Leon had noted the way Marcus spoke of his wife in the past tense. He carefully added, "I may be overstepping, but I'm sorry for your loss."

Marcus nodded grimly. "Thank you. It wasn't one of Camelot's raids, if that's what you're worried about. We didn't even live in Camelot. It was about ten winters ago. We kept a tavern in one of the larger towns. Neither of us wanted to raise our children in the camps, so we hid who we were and just lived among the rest of Cenred's people. There was a fire. Took out half the town, the tavern with it. My boys and I got out, but my wife went back in to make sure the stupid dog she'd adopted was safe."

"I am sorry."

"It was hard for a while, but I've mostly learned to live without her. Moving back to the camp helped."

Leon didn't know what to say to that. He'd been in patrols that had raided druid camps. He'd shed their blood and they were still helping him. Leon was amazed at the capacity to forgive that the druids seemed to have. He stared into the flames, finding himself wondering what it must be like to always be on the wrong end of a hunt. The druids had done nothing to harm him and everything to save him, one even traveling with him into a country that demanded his death just for his very existence.

Leon was tired. It was too hard to think about crises of conscience right now. He gathered his cloak closer to him as he shut his eyes. Tomorrow was soon enough to worry about the fact that his duty called upon him to execute the very people that had saved him, and turn over the man who was escorting him home to be hanged.

Marcus was a good traveling companion. He didn't chatter excessively like some of the knights and soldiers (and strange manservants) Leon usually served with. Instead, he pointed out things like plants that were useful for healing, or a funny-looking tree or bird.

Of course, the fact that the two men were trying not to draw complete attention to themselves since they were only barely within the borders of Camelot might have been part of the reason. Marcus had a good sense for when Cenred's patrols were nearby and they had ended up hiding in the trees along the road a few times. Leon's bright red cloak was excellent for rallying the troops, but terrible for concealment.

"You should take that off and we can roll it up to carry it."

Leon shook his head. "I'd still be in the shiny armor."

Marcus shrugged, "Carry that, too?"

"Do you have any idea how heavy this stuff is?" Leon snorted.

Marcus tilted his head, "Since it took something like four of us to carry you off the battlefield, yes, I think I do, lad."

Leon laughed at the wry tone. "Trust me, wearing it is much easier than carrying it freely. The weight is distributed more evenly."

"I suppose, but it's not good for your health right now."

"Everything will be fine once we get to Camelot. I honestly can't wait to get it off and soak in a hot tub for about a week. I'll probably have one of the servants burn the clothes I'm wearing. I doubt they'll be able to get them clean."

Marcus scoffed. "Nobles. They'll get them clean, alright. Or they'll end up using them for rags or something. You don't burn good cloth."

Marcus asked Leon for a story one night, since he had been amusing the two of them with tales from his time as a tavernkeeper. "I'm not sure I can top the tale of the two-headed acrobat you told me."

"Tch. We hear all sorts of things coming out of Camelot. For a kingdom that has sworn off magic, you seem to run afoul of it an awful lot."

Leon groaned. "You're not wrong. It's as if..." Leon's words trailed off as he shook his head. "It's not my place to wonder about why. Let me tell you about the dragon that nearly roasted me."

It took about four days of walking to get Leon close enough to a village in Camelot that he and Marcus felt was safe from Cenred's spies. The village was just barely visible from the road when Marcus stopped. "I'll leave you here, then. These people should be able to get you home faster than we can walking."

"One of the farmers can probably give me a ride in a cart. The king would see to them being rewarded."

The two men fell silent, the time that they were not enemies coming to an end. "Well, Sir Leon, it was a pleasant walk in the woods."

Grinning, Leon held out his hand and clasped Marcus' arm. "Thank you. Thank you for saving my life and making sure I got home safely. I owe you and your people a debt. I'll be honest and tell you I'm not sure how I can repay it, but I do owe you."

Marcus smiled back. "You'll find a way, but it was not done out of an intention to make a debt."

"I know."

"Safe journeys, Sir Leon."

"Safe journeys, Marcus."

The two men let go of each other and turned toward their respective homes.

Horrifying scenes played out in Leon’s head over and over again as he rode on the wooden seat of the cart from the village. He saw Marcus and his sons lying dead in front of him, his sword stained with their blood. Iseldir holding the strange cup that Leon hadn’t dared ask about as one of the knights of Camelot cut him down. Ramona, the aged healer who had reminded him of an even older Gaius on the ground, staring sightlessly up at him.

These people had saved his life. He owed them. The king would expect him to turn on them. To not tell the king the truth was treason, but Leon had also sworn to protect the innocent. Yes, the druids were magic-users, but they had saved his life knowing exactly who and what Leon was. His red cloak, literally, a dead giveaway.

It was only when he was about to step into the Hall that Leon finally decided to lie to his king. He would play up the fact that he had been injured and do whatever he could to help the people who had saved him. He knew he’d have to give some information, but hopefully he’d be convincing as simply not remembering much. Leon hoped his own sense of honor and the Knight’s Code would be satisfied by it.


End file.
